


palm to palm

by quillsand



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Awkward Flirting, First Kiss, Fluff, Getting Together, Holding Hands, M/M, Pining, Pining Courfeyrac, nerds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-15
Updated: 2017-10-15
Packaged: 2019-01-17 20:08:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12373113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quillsand/pseuds/quillsand
Summary: Courfeyrac knows, objectively, that any two hands will fit together when they're being held. All the same, he can't seem to get over the sight of Combeferre's larger, darker hands encasing his own, and along with it the feeling that there's just something intrinsically special about the two of them. He briefly debates asking Combeferre if there have been any major scientific breakthroughs that would enable them to spend the rest of their lives with their hands clasped together like this, because even now his whole being aches at the prospect of having to let go.-----In which Courfeyrac pines, Combeferre is nervous, and hands are held.





	palm to palm

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this ages ago for the prompt ""It's so cold, I can't feel my hand. Can you feel it for me? " + Courferre, but since then the ask has been lost and I'm not sure who sent it. If you're reading this and thinking 'Hey! That was me!' then I sincerely apologise for the delay in writing this, but I hope you enjoy it!

The air is chilly when Courfeyrac and Combeferre leave the Musain, Enjolras having had to stay behind to discuss something important with Feuilly.

Courfeyrac usually keeps up a running stream of chatter when he's alone with Combeferre- even more so than usual lately, needing something to occupy his mind that isn't how badly he wants to feel Combeferre's lips against his own.

Today however, Courfeyrac is more worked up than usual. It's not often that he retreats into his own head, being quote 'the most extroverted extrovert to ever extrovert' (Marius Pontmercy, 2014), but it has been known to happen. After a long meeting spent watching the many couples of their friendship group be- well, _couples_ , he's feeling distinctly philosophical about his situation.

He's always found Combeferre attractive- in the objective way that he finds all of his friends attractive- but over the past few months that feeling has developed into something... more. Something that, whilst new and exciting, is also a terrifying prospect. Courfeyrac loves romantic relationships, but he treasures his friendships above all else.

Combeferre evidently notices his subdued attitude, for he gently nudges Courfeyrac's shoulder with his own. "Everything okay?"

Courfeyrac digs up his brightest smile. "Great. It's just- the wind, you know?" If Combeferre has any questions about how the wind effects Courfeyrac's ability to hold a conversation, he doesn't ask them.

They walk a little further in comfortable silence; Courfeyrac is happily weighing up the pros and cons of admitting his feelings to Combeferre, when he feels Combeferre's hand brush up against his own.

Courfeyrac hopes desperately that the noise of the wind had obscured the small gasp that escaped him at the contact. For his part, Combeferre doesn't look as if anything particularly significant just happened, and Courfeyrac quickly averts his own gaze, lest Combeferre notice and question him.

The only problem is, now that Courfeyrac has started thinking about Combeferre's hands, he can't seem to stop. Courfeyrac is a very tactile person, and as often as he has platonically held hands with Marius and occasionally Enjolras, it's a habit that has never seemed to transfer over to Combeferre.

"It's so cold, I can't feel my hand. Can you feel it for me? You know, to make sure it's still there?" Courfeyrac wiggles his gloved hand in front of Combeferre, ready to brush it off as a joke if need be.

Combeferre just raises an eyebrow, one corner of his mouth quirked upwards in amusement. "Sure." he says casually, taking Courfeyrac's hand and intertwining their fingers together. Courfeyrac sucks in a breath and tries to keep his hand still within Combeferre's.

They're holding hands.

Even through the gloves, he can still feel the warmth of Combeferre's palm and the thin shape of his fingers, the grip just loose enough that Courfeyrac could easily withdraw his hand if he wanted to.

(He doesn't. Not at all.)

At the end of the block, Combeferre starts gently swinging their arms in time with their steps. Courfeyrac hopes his blush can be blamed on the cold weather because the little smile on Combeferre's face as he squeezes Courfeyrac's hand on every swing is _doing things_  to his brain.

Despite the cold, Courfeyrac is almost disappointed when they're back inside the apartment. Combeferre squeezes Courfeyrac's hand one last time before letting go to take off his coat and gloves. "Hot chocolate?" he asks, hanging his scarf up on the rack.

Courfeyrac grins. "You know me so well, 'Ferre."

Combeferre laughs as he makes his way into the small kitchenette, brushing Courfeyrac's side as he passes- Courfeyrac can't tell if it's deliberate or not.

Biting his lip to keep himself from smiling, Courfeyrac takes up his usual spot on the sofa, rubbing his hands together to try and bring warmth back to his fingers. (He may have just wanted an excuse to hold Combeferre's hand but that doesn't mean that his hands aren't genuinely cold.)

It feels as though less than a minute has passed by the time Combeferre's joining him on the couch, sitting close enough that their thighs are touching and handing Courfeyrac a cup of hot chocolate. "Thanks," Courfeyrac says as he takes the mug; Combeferre smiles before sipping his own.

Let it be known that Combeferre makes the best hot chocolate known to humankind. Courfeyrac almost can't help the moan that escapes his lips when the warm liquid makes it's way down his throat. Beside him, Combeferre stiffens and Courfeyrac's blush can't even be blamed on the cold this time because they're inside and _fuck_  now he's made things awkward and, oh god, his face is practically _burning_.

Coughing, Courfeyrac uses the guise of taking another sip from his mug in order to hide his face from view. "This is great." he says weakly once he feels like his face has returned to it's natural colour.

"Thanks." Combeferre says, and Courfeyrac is deliberately not noticing the way his voice sounds higher than usual, nope, he's definitely _not_  doing that, no way.

"Are your hands still cold?" Combeferre asks suddenly after a few more minutes of silence.

Courfeyrac just stares at him.

"I... I just mean-" Combeferre looks flustered now, which is strange because Combeferre doesn't _get_  flustered, Courfeyrac's known Combeferre for years and he's never seen the other man so much as stutter before. (That's not to say he doesn't find it adorable. Because he does. Probably more than he should.) "If they were, that is- I could try warming them up for you."

Courfeyrac is nodding- it's the only action his body feels capable of making at the moment- and Combeferre smiles at him tentatively before reaching out to take Courfeyrac's hands within his own. They both ignore the fact that Courfeyrac's hands are obviously still warm from the hot chocolate, and Combeferre starts rubbing little circles on the back of Courfeyrac's hand with his thumb. It's all Courfeyrac can do not to bring Combeferre's hand up to his mouth and kiss it.

Courfeyrac has goosebumps (just from holding Combeferre's _hand,_  he thinks wryly,) and he's mesmerised watching the small movements of their hands joined together. He knows, objectively, that any two hands will fit together when they're being held, but he can't seem to get over the sight of Combeferre's larger, darker hands encasing his own. He briefly debates asking Combeferre if there have been any major scientific breakthroughs that would enable them to spend the rest of their lives with their hands clasped together like this, but he doesn't want to ruin the moment.

Combeferre's grip has loosened enough that he's now running fingertips across Courfeyrac's knuckles, softly tracing each one down to the back of his wrist. Courfeyrac feels the breath catch in his throat as Combeferre's fingers continue their exploration of his hands, little shivers running down his spine at every brush of contact.

The moment is oddly silent- Courfeyrac doesn't think it would be the same if they were talking- the lack of noise makes every small touch all the more intense and Courfeyrac begins to wonder if that's what Combeferre's doing- if he's talking through actions rather than words now. For someone who loves words as much as Combeferre- well. That's pretty big.

Courfeyrac isn't entirely sure what this means for them- it's certainly not the most intimate they've ever been (long nights passed curled into one another's sides and days with Enjolras spent cuddled onto the sofa come to mind,) but this is different. Courfeyrac feels like he's watching a movie for the first time and he's not entirely sure how the ending is going to play out.

"I like your hands." Combeferre whispers. Oddly, it doesn't seem to shatter the silence like Courfeyrac had imagined- if anything, Combeferre's gentle tone seems to make everything quieter.

"I like your hands too." Courfeyrac whispers back, the confession feeling important somehow.

Combeferre looks up from where his fingers are trailing a path up Courfeyrac's wrist to his forearm and smiles, just slightly. Courfeyrac returns in kind, his own smile lighting up his face as he meets Combeferre's eyes.

"Okay?" he asks, eyes shining with something akin to concern.

Courfeyrac smiles wider. "Very okay."

Combeferre bites down on his lip and the action catches Courfeyrac's eyes immediately. Almost unconsciously, his tongue flicks out to wet his own lips and he watches as Combeferre's gaze drops down to his mouth.

There's no cliche present when their heads start getting closer- Courfeyrac is fully aware of Combeferre's face as it gets nearer to his own, fully aware of Combeferre's lips, his eyes. He's fully aware of what this moment is leading to and what it could mean for the both of them, for their friendship- and he leans in closer.

Combeferre's hands leave Courfeyrac's for the first time in what feels like hours as he moves it to rest against the side of Courfeyrac's neck, the other slowly removing his glasses in an action that Courfeyrac might have found funny if he didn't find it hot.

Not daring to move a muscle, Courfeyrac stays still as Combeferre's lips press softly against his cheek. "Okay?" Combeferre asks, voice impossibly quiet.

"More than okay."

Their lips are only a few centimetres apart now. Courfeyrac closes his eyes and tilts his head to the side carefully. He feels Combeferre's breath on his lips as he whispers, "Okay?" once more.

In lieu of an answer, Courfeyrac inches his head ever so slightly to being their lips together. Combeferre's lips are warm against his own- Courfeyrac is aware of that and not much else. There are fingers in his hair, tugging gently at the base of his neck, and another hand on his waist- he doesn't really know where his own hands are. He thinks one might be resting on Combeferre's thigh for support and the other on his shoulder, but none of it really matters because Combeferre is kissing him and they're kissing and-

Combeferre pulls away, slowly, lips kissed red and eyes blown wide.

"Okay?" Courfeyrac asks, aiming for a smirk even though he's sure the dopey expression he's wearing probably ruins it.

"More than okay." Combeferre whispers, leaning in again.

 

**Author's Note:**

> "And palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss." Romeo and Juliet, act 1 scene 5 
> 
> Thank you for reading! Please let me know what you thought below! <3


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